


Don't touch the buns

by s_a_b_i_n_e



Series: Destiel Oneshots (smut-free) [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday Presents, Dean's Birthday, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28955724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_a_b_i_n_e/pseuds/s_a_b_i_n_e
Summary: It started as a gag gift. Dean opened the little present, expecting a band shirt or something, but Sam grinned at him too much for something simple as that.Kiss the cook, but don't touch the bunswas printed on the apron.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel Oneshots (smut-free) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022302
Comments: 13
Kudos: 84





	Don't touch the buns

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/goIdendean/status/1353175343977250816?s=19)

It started as a gag gift. Dean opened the little present, expecting a band shirt or something, but Sam grinned at him too much for something simple as that.

Ever since they moved into the bunker, Dean loved cooking and baking from scratch, not the convenience stuff that you could heat in the kitchenette that some motel rooms offered. Sam teased him about the white apron he loved to wear when he indulged in his new hobby ever so often.

So, it shouldn't have come as a surprise that instead of a new Led Zeppelin shirt he found a full-size apron in it, neatly folded to show off the word 'kiss' and a fitting lipstick print next to it.

Dean raised a sceptical eyebrow, but the smile tugging on his lips betrayed his cool acting. He shook out the fabric to see what else was hidden and a chuckle worked its way up out of his mouth.

 _Kiss the cook, but don't touch the buns_ was printed on the apron.

"You better keep to the instructions," Dean said to Sam who giggled like a high school girl and gave him a wet smooch on his cheek that Dean wiped off with an overdramatic expression of disgust.

Fast forward to the next day. Dean is standing in the kitchen, flipping burgers next to the spread of sliced burger buns, cheese slices, pickles, and condiments. He sports the new apron, figuring that bacon grease splatter on the new plaid shirt that Castiel gifted him and which Eileen said brought out the colour of his eyes, would be a worse fate than being made fun of by his baby brother.

It's when he's carefully lowering the last patty on the bottom part of a bun that Castiel walks in, his trenchcoat swaying behind him like the cape of a superhero.

Dean chuckles. Not that he minds that the angel always wears the same clothes, basically since the day they met, but he sometimes wishes, he had savoured the days when Cass was human and wore that cute hoodie. Well, he wished he wouldn't have sent him away with nothing but his clothes on his skin. But that's a story for self-flagellation at another time.

He turns to face Castiel fully, enjoying the crinkles around the angel's tightening eyes. Maybe it's out of concentration, confusion, or old Jimmy would have needed glasses. Who cares? Castiel, ex-angel of Chuck, looks adorable like that and Dean's stomach flutters in a way Dean is far too acquainted with.

Castiel's gaze wanders from the apron to the buns, to Dean's lips, and back to the apron. The corners of the angel's lips twitch nervously, somewhere between a tender smile and a tense endeavour to keep his lips a straight line.

Dean's brain catches up on the scene that he, the half-finished burgers, and the apron form and a big, but very welcome swarm of butterflies makes its way through his chest, taking his breath away for a moment. His face must have shown delight for the split of a second of unguardedness. Whatever it was, it's enough to draw in the other man like a moth to a lamp.

Castiel walks slowly, but with intent. He looks down at the apron and then up into Dean's eyes. The slight frown on his forehead makes Cass look like a puppy and isn't that the strangest thing to think about an ancient being. It's moments like this that make Dean forget sometimes, that Castiel isn't really human, no matter how cute he looks in a cowboy hat, how sexy in scrubs, or just beautiful in a boring trench coat.

Castiel bursts his little daydream bubble. "Is that a convention or just a silly joke I do not understand?" Cass' voice is neutral like it happens so often, deep and curious in a way that makes the hairs on Dean's arms stand up when spoken to him from such close proximity to the lips they are falling off.

Dean swallows around a lump in his throat, trying to school his countenance into a cocky grin, but fails, ending up with a lopsided smile that looks more shy than confident.

"It's ... um ... a common custom," he lies, voice shaking a little in embarrassment and repressed excitement.

Castiel nods thoughtfully. "Where does the kiss go?" he asks and Dean suspects that the innocence of his voice is not as angelic as it seems.

"Where ... wherever one wants to," he presses out, grabbing the worktop tightly when leaning against it for some support as his legs turn to jelly.

"Everywhere?" Castiel asks in earnest and Dean can't suppress an eye-roll.

"Yes, basically."

Castiel smiles softly and strokes his thumb over the knuckles of Dean's hand. He loosens the fingers tenderly from the tight grip and moves the hand up towards his face. He presses a soft kiss on the back. A surprised gasp escapes Dean's mouth. He can't remember anyone kissing him this cautiously, as if he were fragile or special and not a man who kills monsters for a living, whose face was spluttered with blood and goo more often than tears of joy.

Castiel lowers Dean's hand that grabs back tightly when the angel tries to let go. Castiel searches the hunter's face for an answer to this unusual behaviour. All he finds are relaxed features and careful eyes.

Dean leans in slowly, waiting for Castiel to step back, for a sign of confusion or disgust. But nothing happens apart from the lips that open up a wee bit, inviting, soft-looking, and oh so close.

Their lips meet, delicately and gentle, so different to what Dean had pictured a hundred times before. None of them is dying, none of them is hurting. The kiss isn't a fruitless attempt to say something in the last possible moment, desperate and hopeless. It's soft and sweet, indulgent and smooth.

They separate after a long moment, gentle smiles playing on their lips.

"That ... was a better spot for kissing the cook," Castiel chuckles. 

Dean smirks. "Yeah."

"You should finish the burgers before they get cold," Castiel says in the matter-of-fact way that's nearly soothing and Dean nods.

Castiel walks to the door where he stops in his track and turns around.

"Why shouldn't I 'touch the buns'?" he asks, air quotes and all.

Dean laughs out loud, shaking his head in amusement. "You, sweetheart, you are allowed to touch them."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. 💚💙 Let me know what you think.


End file.
